Disclaimer: I own nothing save characters not appearing in King Arthur. This story is not meant to insult, impugn the dignity of, or otherwise cause difficulty for the reader. Flames will be used to heat my house, constructive comments will be welcomed and used to improve the story.
Author's Note: Okay, this chapter is violent and not so happy. My apologies in advance. But, as promised, here's another chapter. After reading the last couple of chapters, I realized that it was starting to be a PWP. Therefore, I decided we needed plot.
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Who Wouldn't Want A Sarmatian?
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Betrayal
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Germanus held out the bag of silver, smiling at his spy.
The man in the cloak started to shake his head.
Germanus's smile widened. He had this man, this gravel-voiced goliath who had been so loyal, right where he wanted him. If he was to reveal the spy's treachery, the spy would be destroyed. If the spy did not do as the bishop requested, then his destruction would be certain.
"Do not ask me to do this." The spy begged his former commander.
Germanus stepped forward, pressing the bag into the spy's hand. "It is a simple task, boy. Make it look however you may wish. But I want it done before that baby is born. Do you understand?"
The spy nodded hopelessly.
Germanus watched as the spy left his chambers and chortled softly. His plans were coming to fruition. And with so little effort on his part. Only thirty pieces of silver. He wondered if the spy would understand the significance.
His master would be so pleased.
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Gueneviere sighed and leaned against her friend and bodyguard. "I miss it."
Nadège glanced skeptically at her charge. "Gueneviere, it's not as if we've shackled you to a birthing bed. You just have to be careful."
Gueneviere nodded. "And I can still use my bow," she reminded herself.
Nadège grinned. "That's the spirit. Let's go eviscerate some poor target," she suggested, sliding off the low wall and helping her queen to her feet. It still amazed Nadège that Brigid had foreseen the birth of Arthur's heir. What was even more amazing to the woman was that the Hibernian had then taken to protecting that life in as inconspicuous a way as possible. Ordering Nadège not to hit the queen in the belly had left the Sarmatian with a relatively clear idea as to the queen's situation but she'd let her queen continue to fight until the healer actually pronounced her with child.
Gueneviere picked up her bow and sighted down it to the target. "How is Tristan handling your shadowing of me?"
Nadège shrugged, stepping behind the queen and adjusting the younger woman's stance a minute amount. "He is happy for you to be carrying an heir," she replied, eyes searching for any possible assassin. How easily she fell back into her old habits.
Gueneviere notched an arrow and let it fly. "So his happiness over an heir is why he is trying to decapitate Galahad?"
Nadège glanced at the two warriors. Indeed, Tristan did seem to be taking out his frustration on the younger knight. She chuckled and thanked the gods that the two knights were using dulled practice swords. "Of course, majesty," she smirked before returning to her former occupation of visually inspecting her surroundings.
Gueneviere repeated her actions with the bow and arrow and again let it fly. "And Stasja pregnant. Soon you?"
Nadège chuckled. "Unlikely, majesty. Too many old wounds and injuries for a woman like me to carry a babe."
Gueneviere paused, considering the older woman beside her. They'd never spoken of Nadège's past save the brief account of her being set free as a Roman slave in Gaul and going to Sarmatia to find the survivors. Now she wondered what demons lurked in her friend's past. "I'm sure that Brigid could do-"
Nadège cut her friend off with a look. "My queen, your aim. Pay attention to the target."
Gueneviere nodded and returned to shooting her arrows.
All the while her friend was at her back, a solid presence and a watchful eye.
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Edric looked up as Nadège stepped into the smithy. "Come for a visit," he growled.
Nadège arched an eyebrow at his tone. "The queen is with her husband and I am not needed until morning. I thought we could do some work." She knew that Edric did not approve of her being tasked with guarding the queen, though it was more due to the fact that work was backing up in the smithy.
Edric nodded. "Aye. There is plenty to do. So, when is this great and powerful guard to arrive?"
Nadège sighed. "Ten days. A messenger arrived to tell the king that the guards would be here before the next full moon."
Edric nodded again, stroking his coal-black beard. "I've missed you, little raven," he admitted, unconsciously using Tristan's endearment.
Nadège smiled. "As I have you, old man. Now that you have your apprentice back, what should we start on."
Edric looked at the stacks of metal requiring his attention and motioned to one side of the smithy, while he took the other. The two smiths worked quietly, engrossed in the skills that they had each acquired and shared with one another.
Edric sighed.
He'd missed his little apprentice.
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Merlin smiled at his daughter, his hand covering hers. "So I am to be a grandfather," he mused.
Gueneviere smiled tentatively, glancing to her ever-present bodyguard who stood at her shoulder. "Aye. Though I do not understand all of these precautions," she grumbled.
Merlin flicked his dark gaze to the guard, noting that the Sarmatian woman was heavily armed and seemed to not be taking for granted that Gueneviere's father was not a threat. "I agree with the priestess, Gueneviere. Brigid has been around a great deal of death and intrigue in her short life. She's perhaps the best to judge your safety."
Gueneviere shot a disbelieving look at her father. "This the same woman who went off into the woods and was whipped raw by an old friend?"
Merlin chuckled. "She was always better at seeing the danger for others than she was at seeing her own." He leaned forward. "She was correct that you are more at risk than ever with the babe you carry."
Gueneviere sighed. "I'm beginning to understand why Brigid complained of Dagonet's protectiveness."
Merlin grinned. "It will become easier. You two are of a mind. Both independent and headstrong." He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "Be glad that Nadège here has agreed to guard you within this fortress. Else I and the elders would have moved you to Caerleon for the duration of your confinement."
Gueneviere gaped at her father, knowing all to well that her father spoke the truth. "But Caerleon is at the ends of the Earth," she complained.
Merlin shrugged. "We've had no peace for too long, daughter. This is our chance. The child you carry is not only a sign of your love for your husband, but also a symbol of the joining of Roman, Briton and Woad." He picked up his goblet of spiced wine and took a sip. "Though I will admit that I wish your mother had survived to see this." His charcoal eyes darkened as he recalled his wife.
Gueneviere sniffled and reached out, touching her father's arm. "I miss her."
Merlin smiled at his daughter. "She would have been so pleased that you had married a good man. And that you were going to have a child."
Gueneviere nodded. She vaguely remembered the woman who had birthed her eighteen years before. What she most remembered were the woman's eyes-they had always sparkled within their jade depths. She had wished for years that she had inherited those eyes that seemed to peel back layers of deceit with just a look. "Soon Nymenche and Gwenddydd will be here. And I pity anyone who tries to harm me while my aunt and cousin are in residence."
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The man tested the dagger, drawing a thin line of blood across the pad of his thumb. He would do it tonight. In only a day's time the famed Nymenche and Gwenddydd, two ladies steeped in the power of the druids and summoned from their homes in Cymru, would arrive in the fortress.
Once the two priestesses were in the fortress, Gueneviere would be untouchable. No, he had to do it tonight. He pulled on his cloak and slipped into the darkness. He had learned that the Woad would be in the Roman baths for the evening, her bodyguard her sole protection.
He made his way through the inky night, his target the cheerily lit baths at one corner of the fortress. His footsteps betrayed a slight drag to his left leg and he winced at the pull to his thigh muscles. He knew that his loyalty to his old commander had gone now beyond reason. Part of how he justified his current course of action was the rage laying banked in his heart towards his king's wife.
So many swords had been driven into the earth thanks to the Woads. They had killed so many of his friends. Staying past his term of service had only increased his rage. He had itched so many times to once again hunt the Woads and now there was peace? He knew that the Woads would turn again, betraying his countrymen. Better the Romans or even the Saxons to have Castellus.
Stepping within the bathhouse, Edric listened. He could hear splashing and laughter. His soft-spoken apprentice was talking in hushed tones with the queen and the queen trilled her laughter. He would have to kill the queen without his little apprentice seeing it.
There had been quiet for a long moment and he stepped forward, dagger drawn and ready. Stepping into the bath, he startled to a stop.
"Good evening, Edric," offered Nadège, her sword drawn and in her hand.
Edric gaped at the woman. The queen was nowhere about. But he had heard her…
"A simple matter of her being drawn away, friend." Her tone said it all-betrayal and hurt. He had never wanted her to know. To know that he was the person who would kill her charge.
"I don't want to hurt you. Just tell me where she is. She's cost too many lives. She needs to die."
Nadège gaped at the man she had called friend. She snapped her mouth shut. "Edric, you haven't done anything yet. You can walk away."
Edric shook his head, advancing on the dark-haired woman. "I don't want to hurt you," he repeated. "But I will if I have to."
Nadège nodded. This she understood. Violence. Even if it came from a friend. "You will not kill her, Edric."
Edric expelled a breath. "You don't understand, Nadège. They're worse than the Romans. Worse than the Saxons, even."
Nadège shook her head. Zaria and Brigid had spirited Gueneviere away from the bathhouse just before Edric entered the bathhouse proper. She had to give the healer and her youngest friend time to get the queen to safety. "You will not pass, old man."
Edric grinned, rolling his head on his neck. Suddenly he swung out, his blade rattling against his apprentice's. He watched as she winced. Another strike, another block. And another. And another. Then the blade swiped Nadège's thigh and he earned a wince and gasp. Then another swipe, this time across her bicep and her arm slackened, leaving her with only one arm to defend herself.
She was backpedaling. She was no match for the older, more experience man in such tight quarters. Nowhere to maneuver.
Suddenly the blade was at her neck.
"Tell me where she is."
Nadège shook her head, fighting back tears. She was about to die at the hands of her friend, a man who had almost become the father she'd forgotten. Would Tristan know how much she loved him?
Edric forced her to her knees. "Last time, Nadège. Tell me where she is."
Nadège shook her head again and closed her eyes.
The sword slid through her torso, tearing a scream from the woman, her blood spreading across the floor as she dropped with a thud to the tiled floor.